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Buck 65

50 Gallon Drum

  hip-hop  canadian  hip hop  rap  indie  hip-hop  canadian  hip hop  rap  indie
294,00 прямо сейчас

Текст песни Buck 65 - 50 Gallon Drum

Buck 65 - 50 Gallon Drum слова песни

My idea of heaven, I enjoy the fixing of a flat tireI like art made of garbage, a little pain is good for youI don`t want everything to be made easy for meFast ain`t always better than slow you knowA home run every time would start to get boring after a whileI hope I never forget how to bleedStatic fuzz, hiss, it`s just the thing sometimes50 gallon drum, that`s what I`m talking aboutGive me a hundred bucks to work on your bikeAnd maybe I`ll cut your hair for you while I`m at itI wanna work, I`m ready, I wanna take my baby dancingScary movies on Monday morning, chopping some wood, wind in my tiresChocolate chip cookies, rain in the window, it`s the underneath of ParisIt`s New York from the back, Mount Uniacke in the fallIn a moment between heartbeats I`ll set fire to the skyOr cut the devil`s throatI`m three for four with a double and two stolen basesHaving my picture taken with the Amazing CreskinIt`s a shiny day and the dogshit smells like strawberriesI found a shoebox filled with viewmaster reelsI don`t have to cut my hair or do math ever again if I don`t want toTell the bounty collectors to kiss my assI`m a hunter gatherer surveying the junk yardsWarrior monk with a month long bus passOdd job casanova, I write nothing down and keep my clothes in a guitar caseI run with bulls and swim with the pool sharksPerfection is a place where there are two for one milkshakes on TuesdaysIt`s where you can pay for a room with your good looksThe ball parks are always busy and the umpires always make the right callEveryday is halloween and people use plastic Christmas treesThey fight with their fists and go to drive-in moviesThere`s no such thing as luck or the dentist and shoes don`t hurt your feetI keep a lighter and dog treatsIn my pockets at all times because you never knowI`ve got a Saint Francis of Assisi keychainAnd a wallet made of Corinthian leatherSometimes I drive all night and listen to talk radioSometimes I practice scratching for hours on endUsually I sit in my window and listen to my tapes, I`ve got all kinds of tapesHugs and kisses, and treats in a bagIn paradise a buck will buy you a comic book, a soda and a candy barYou can always find a place to park or to hideThe DJs only play originals and the theatres still have silver screensAnd Buster Keaton matineesI`m an outlaw faith healer, with sock monkeys for the kidsI`m the ringmaster-king of the convenience store parking lotMy show is an every man for himself freak festPack a lunch and ask for Johnny RockwellHere your favorite pen works forever but memory parallaxIt`s 70`s doing 20`s, 50`s doing 2000Everyone`s got their own arrow and there ain`t no short handled shovelsIt`s under my pillow, it`s tomorrow and the next day

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